


A Fate Worse than Parents

by ToLiveForWells



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: I accept it, I accept my fate, I don't usually write OCs, Original Character(s), Other, The Flash - Freeform, This is my life now, but here we are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToLiveForWells/pseuds/ToLiveForWells
Summary: When the newcomer of the Legion of Doom needs a fake boyfriend to impress her parents, her pickings are less than slim.





	1. Family Dinner

The newest member of the Legion of Doom had been established at last. Whether it was met with joy, dismay, or some hesitation was still up to question. Some welcomed the addition with more willingness than others. Leonard Snart welcomed the newcomer with a suave and cool demeanor-no pun intended- his natural charm and wit was immediately recognized as flirtatious by all members of the Legion. The newcomer shrugged it off, her own laid back attitude clashing against Snart’s. Not that this in any way swayed Snart from his continued underhand advances, but their interactions became that of casual flirtation with no intent to go further, and both enjoyed the relationship they shared. Though it irritated the remaining members of the Legion to no end. 

The newcomer went by the name of Lance. Though it was told it was just a nickname, she refused to disclose her legal name. While some heroes and villains hid their name to protect their identity from the public, she hid hers to protect herself from her family. To her family, she was known as the energetic and outgoing college student, majoring in history and global affairs. To the Legion she was a laid back, logical, swordswoman. From a longsword to a katana, her extensive knowledge of history aided her well in combat. She was able to keep up with Thawne in knowledge of the past and was quick witted enough to maintain a never ending word play battle with Snart-much to Thawne’s dismay. 

Though she was fairly new to the Legion of Doom, Lance quickly became a valuable asset in all their endeavors. She was nonthreatening in appearance, maintaining casual attire among the suits and ties of Merlyn and Darhk, and didn’t stand out like the leather clad Eobard Thawne. She closely resembled Snart in terms of attire, opting for plain shirts and jackets. Her fairly plain appearance granted her the ability to slip in and out of situations without any rise for suspicion but her skill with a sword and her in depth knowledge gave her the edge the Legion had been looking for. 

The greater portion of her time became dedicated to her work at the Legion of Doom, escaping when necessary to attend her classes and meet her parents’ expectations of academic excellence. After finishing her classes she would always make a hurried trip back to the team, eager to work and to make her mark and establish herself as a force to be reckoned with. 

Today was a day as any other: discussion, plotting, planning, yelling. Darhk and Thawne were arguing with Merlyn over some unimportant nonsense regarding the Legends of Tomorrow. Lance sat at a desk pouring over a textbook while Leonard sat beside her with a smug grin on his face. 

“Ya know, that college degree is going to prove completely useless when you get killed.” 

“Then I guess I’ll have no choice but to dominate the afterlife, huh?” Lance’s eyes didn’t lift from the pages before her as she rebuked Snart. “And we all know if I die I’m taking at least one of you with me.”

“Oh yeah? Which one do you want? I’d be far happier if it were just me and Rory again. I miss those days. Take Speedy with you why don’t you. Wouldn’t mind taking things a bit slower.” Snart chuckled to himself. 

“Oh and here I thought it was all about speed with you men.” Lance replied with a snide grin. 

“Now now, don’t turn me on like that.” Snart crooned, leaning over, blocking her books. 

Lance pushed her chair back with a sigh, “if only you had an off switch.” 

She stood, shoving Snart off her books. Things had settled between the trio in the background much to the relief of the others. Lance traipsed over to Eobard who had taken to pacing and grumbling to himself. “I’m off,” she declared, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t run yourself into the ground while I’m gone” she grinned. 

Eobard whose arms remained crossed, gave a side glance down at her, “you really should stop hanging around Snart so much. He’s rubbing off on you.” 

“Have you been watching what we do in private? For shame, Eobard, for shame.” She turned on her heel and started walking out, hearing Eobard groan, “you know you love me!” She called over her shoulder. 

While she enjoyed her work and the grandiose plots of the Legion, she enjoyed the company far more. She had made a fair amount of friends while at college but the presence of like minded individuals was minimal outside of her coworkers. It was an excellent chance to escape the tedious nature of college and the oppressive commands of her parents. If anything it was excellent stress relief, especially during spars when she could work to better her hand-to-hand combat. 

During her daydreams she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, pushing her back to reality. She checked her watch, lecture would be up in ten minutes. She slid her phone from her pocket and unlocked the screen to see a text from her father reading “don’t forget, dinner tonight! See you soon.” 

“Shit.” she muttered under her breath. 

She had forgotten entirely. She quickly sent a text to Snart which read “family dinner with the family sinner.” 

Lecture was dismissed and Lance took off. She had just enough time to make it back to her own apartment, change, and stop for a bottle of wine before arriving promptly at her parents’ doorstep. The key clicked in the door and she pushed it open, greeted by the old family dog, Arthur, who greeted her with hoarse barks and many a tail wag. 

“Your favorite child has arrived!” She called into the hallway.

“Our only child has arrived.” Her father appeared around the corner, greeting her with a hug. “How has school been? Getting straight A’s as always?” 

Lance rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue, “as best as one can, I guess.” 

She followed her father into the small kitchen and dining area where her mother was just pouring a final glass of water and setting it on the table. She looked up with a smile as her daughter walked in. 

“How are you?” She asked, embracing Lance, “You still haven’t brought us a future son-in-law I see.” 

Lance laughed awkwardly, “I’m fine, mom. Still single but not a lot of time to mingle.”

Her parents laughed as they sat down for dinner. The usual questions were asked about classes, professors, jobs, intermingled with regular questions about a potential date, future grandchildren, and Lance’s favorite “you’re 25, that face won’t stay so pretty forever.” 

Lance cringed, forced to smile and bear her parents barrage of old fashioned ideology and expectations. As she ate her phone buzzed. She ignored it, phones were strictly banned from the dinner table. The phone buzzed again, and again. There was a momentary delay before her phone began to ring. Her parents both stared her down with disapproving looks as she resigned to pulling out her phone. “I’m sorry guys I really have to take this call. It’s about work.” Her father waved her off with a sigh as Lance got up and excused herself to the hall. 

“What is it, Eobard? Did Snart forget to tell you I’m having dinner with my family?” She hissed into the phone. 

“Family is unimportant compared to the fate of our lives.” Came a dry response. “How soon can you get here?” 

“It’s going to be another couple of hours, Eobard. Can’t time wait for a minute?” 

A heavy sigh came from the phone, “fine. As soon as you’re done there get over here before this place goes up in flames.” Shouting could be heard in the background of the phone call. 

“I’ll do what I can, Thawne, but come on, just admit you miss me.” Though gone unseen by the other end of the call, Lance had an unforgiving grin on her face. 

There was no reply and she was met with a dial tone. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and returned to the table where her parents were both intently staring at the entryway awaiting her return. 

“That sure didn’t sound like a work call.” Her mother quipped, “sounded far more… personal.” She winked. 

Before Lance could get a word out of her mouth her father chimed in “what’s his name? Are you going to be introducing us soon?”  
“Mom, dad, really, it’s just someone from work. There’s a-” she paused unsure how to proceed, “problem at the office is all. Some, you know, disputes over papers and things.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying!” Her mother sounded exuberant over a lie.

“Mom is always right, you’ve always been caught when she’s around. Come on, bring him over next week. We are dying to meet the man of your dreams!” 

“Dad, this guy is just a coworker. He is like, 40 or something.” Lance whined, tired of her parents constant barrage of marital hopes. “I don’t even like the guy. He drives me nuts.” 

“Oh hun, guys always tease the girls they like.” Her father waved a hand defiantly. “And age is but a number, right? Plus that’s not that big of an age gap.” 

“First off, that’s some old ass conceptual bull encouraging the abuse of females.” Lance threw her hands up, “Furthermore… okay you’re right about the age part but really dad, Eobard is just a friend.” 

Both her parents threw their hands in their air with great joy, “we have a name!” her mother shouted with glee. 

“You have to bring him over next week, I will not take no for an answer young lady.” Her father was beaming. 

Lance’s head hit the side of the table in defeat, “fine” she muttered “I’ll bring him.” 

Dinner after that point was just her parents talking excitedly, guessing what this Eobard fellow would look like, what he did for a living, and a constant stream of “we’re just so happy!” 

 

 

Lance trudged her way back to her dearest Legion, dropping her bag with a thud against her desk. 

Eobard stormed up to her as soon as he realized she was there, “nice of you to join us. You know, if you want to stay within the Legion, you might want to actually try working once in a while.” 

“I pull more than my fair share of work around here, Thawne.” Lance said through gritted teeth. “I tried my best. If I’m such a useless member, why did you need me earlier anyway?” 

“The others insisted. It wasn’t exactly my first choice. We could have managed fine on our own but apparently I have no say in things anymore.” 

“Well good, you have no say in this either. You’re coming to dinner with my family and I next week.” 

Thawne stared at Lance, “why on earth would I do that?”

“Well see,” Lance spun around in her chair, facing Thawne, “you called at just the right time. Right as I was sitting there eating dinner with my dear parents, my phone rang. Wouldn’t you know, it was a gigantic speedy moron on the other end of that call. My parents naturally thought you must be my boyfriend and now you’re coming to my house for dinner. My parents will not be turned down.” 

“I’ll just kill your parents then. Problem solved.” 

“Can’t do that because then I have no choice but to take you out. And you know I am more than capable of doing so.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

“Don’t tempt me.” Lance leapt from her chair standing toe-to-toe with Thawne. She barely came up to his shoulders, staring up at him with a stone cold glare. 

He stared back down at her, using one hand to push her back, “fine, I come to dinner with your family, and you come the hell over here whenever I call you. How about that?” 

“Deal. I’d much rather face your sorry ass over the wrath of my parents.”


	2. The First Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A desperate attempt to relieve her pain and a dumb mistake led to a swift punch from Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's late. I'm sorry.

Try as she might, after promising Eobard to come when he called, life became a bit more than unmanageable. There came a point where if she didn’t show up within a certain amount of time after his beckoning texts he would come and grab her, no matter where she was. Whether she was in class or finally getting some sleep, a gust of wind and a streak of light would breathe through the room and she would be thrown into the middle of a petty argument or a violent battle. 

Obviously Lance’s grades began to fall fairly rapidly at that point. Despite her intelligence, lectures were fairly imperative to keeping up with the pace of the course. Within the month between her agreement with Eobard and her family dinner she had managed to miss two quizzes, eight lecture periods, and three research essays. Her professors were beginning to get suspicious, especially considering how she had a tendency to vanish in the middle of class quite literally. Being an excellent bullshitter, she managed to weasel her way out of academic probation but she had to get this family dinner out of the way so she could at the very least graduate by the end of the year.   
After one particularly distressing day in which Eobard decided to snag Lance just before she went to the bathroom and threw her headfirst into the middle of a battlefield, she threw all her bags onto the floor of her apartment with an aggressive scream. She had come out unscathed from the prehistoric ordeal and somehow avoided spoiling herself after nearly being shot and eaten by cannibalistic cave people. Upon return Eobard maintained a smug grin as he stared Lance down. She despised Eobard with every fiber of her being and all she wanted to do was drink until her liver decided to give up on life, but knowing her luck when she was at her worst, Eobard would throw her in the middle of some ridiculous circus fight just in time for her to get impaled by a clown on a pogo stick. 

Lance collapsed onto her bed. Her body ached from head to toe. All she wanted to do was sleep for one solid night and pretend like Eobard Thawne wasn’t the biggest asshole on the face of this earth and probably every other earth in the multiverse. Right as her eyes started to close her phone buzzed once. She ignored it. It buzzed again, and again, yet again, and again. She snatched the phone from the side of her bed and flicked it on. Multiple texts from the only person she didn’t want to strangle. She let out a sigh of relief as she read over the texts from Snart: 

“Lance, you look dead. Or maybe undead.”   
“You should sleep more.”   
“Else you’ll become the walking dead.”  
“And you know I’m not into necrophilia.”   
“Let’s drink.” 

Lance smiled at the text, the smile took up more energy than expected and faded quickly. Her fingers flicked across the screen as she replied “be over in a flash.” 

Drearily she dragged herself up from bed and threw on some clothes from the floor by the hamper-they were probably clean enough- and headed out the door. She turned and locked the door behind her. As she turned back around she jumped as she bumped into Snart. 

“Jesus Christ on a crisp you scared me, Snart.” 

His typical half grin rested on his face, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s kinda my thing. So what are we in the mood for? Beer, bacardi, vodka, absinthe?” 

“Who says we can’t have it all?” Lance half moaned as she followed Snart’s long footsteps down the hallway. “Thawne is killing me right now. I can’t wait to get this stupid family dinner over with so I can finally go back to living like a regular assassin instead of a crazed, sleep deprived psychopath. There’s a difference, you know.” 

Snart nodded, “that leather bound bastard loves to work his mules into the ground. Takes all the fun out of murder and thievery, you know? Things used to be so easy before all these speedsters got in my way.” 

The night air felt glorious on Lance’s skin. The humidity had settled down and the cool, pure, crisp fall air flowed freely through the trees. Lance felt her shoulders relax, letting her guard down from the yellow jacket that haunted her every move. Lance ranted as she walked with Snart towards the bar in the center of town. She hadn’t found the time to rant much less talk at all, the release of pent up tension and frustration was purely cathartic for her soul and her mood. She walked a bit faster, now able to keep up with Snart’s strides. 

“We haven’t even gotten any booze into you and you’re already tipsy.” Snart said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

“I don’t remember the last time I got to go to a bar and drink with someone I didn’t want to strangle. It’s therapeutic.” 

“You don’t want to strangle me? Well I guess that changes the late night plans, huh?” 

“I said I didn’t want to strangle you, didn’t say anything about not wanting to choke you a bit.”   
Snart let out a deep chuckle, “let’s at least down a few before the fun starts.” He stepped aside, opening the door to the bar letting her in first. 

The two of them had been regulars at this bar, the bouncer let them pass without question. Lance climbed up onto a stood at the bar, Snart sliding onto the stool next to her. The bartender greeted them both warmly, asking where the two of them had been over this past month. Both of them gave a half hearted excuse about work keeping them busy. Lance ordered her usual whiskey and Snart ordered a sex on the beach, “preparing for the summer,” he explained. 

Drinks kept coming as the night wore on. It felt so good to drink and drink heavily and completely ignore, if but for a moment, the thoughts of her mother, father, and Eobard Thawne. Lacne drank happily alongside Leonard, their platonic flirtation exuded through their drunken lips until the bartender finally cut them off.   
Leonard waved a dismissive hand at him but laughed nonetheless. Lance took Snart’s arm as they both stumbled their way out of the bar and down the street. Lance enjoyed the sweet smell of sweat and booze which dripped from both herself and Snart as they wandered the abandoned streets together. “Ya know, Snart,” Lance paused, “you’re the greatest friend I could ever have I think.” 

He laughed, slinging an arm over Lance’s shoulder, “the sentiments are shared, to say the least. At the very least, we share the same hatred of one speedy yellow asshole and a love for heavy drinking.” 

“If only I could bring you to the family dinner instead of Thawne.” The name fell off of Lance’s tongue like vomit. “Too bad I already made my pro-.” A harsh buzz from Lance’s pocket interrupted her. Yanking the phone with great irritation, she read the text:   
“Urgent. Get yourself over here now.” 

A vicious growl escaped Lance’s throat as the phone flew across the street. “You’re gonna regret that tomorrow.” Snart commented nonchalantly. 

“That’s it. I have to kill myself. There is no other way out of this, else I spend the rest of my life enslaved to Eobard Thawne: the biggest, most selfish jerk this earth, and every other earth, has ever seen.” Lance’s eyelids were heavy, her head now spinning as the effects of the alcohol settled into her body. 

The alcohol was certainly turning Lance’s stomach, but what had truly made her nauseous was the fact that Eobard would arrive at any second, whisking her off to some strange place to fight lord knows who or to settle some idiotic argument between himself and Malcolm. Sure enough, fas if summoned by thought alone, the flash of light and the gust of wind erupted, causing Lance and Snart to cover their eyes. Skidding to a stop, Eobard stood before them, bewildered at the sight of the drunken pair.   
“Is this really how you two have decided to spend your night?” Thawne’s arms were crossed over his chest, the look of disapproval reminded Lance of the looks her father would give her whenever she received a bad grade or stayed out too late when she was a teenager. 

“Yeah Thawne, it is. It’s fun, you should try it sometime. Oh wait, that’s right, you can’t because you’re a speedster and it’s nearly impossible for you to get drunk. Oh yeah, and you’re also incapable of having fun or, I dunno, just generally not being a huge asshole.” Lance stumbled forward as she spoke, her words slurring. 

Eobard’s hand shot out, catching Lance before she entirely fell forward and into the ground. Snart leaned back against the side of a building, far more coherent than Lance. “She went a bit too hard, tried to keep up with me. Didn’t go as well as she hoped,” he commented, picking at his fingernails. 

“She’s useless in this state. Well, even more so than usual, I suppose.” Eobard cast a look of disgust at the muddled mess in his arms.

“I take great offense at that,” Lance muttered, still slumped against Eobard’s arm, “I am of tremendous use. I could kick your ass right now.” She squirmed a bit under Eobard’s grip, throwing harmless punches against his rib. 

“Would you take this slobbering mess home, Snart?” Eobard pushed the limp form backwards, Snart catching her before she hit the ground. 

Snart pushed Lance back into Eobard’s arms, “nope, you caught her first. Your problem now. And leather daddy, how about you cut the kid a break? You’re being an even bigger dick than usual.” 

Eobard’s eyes rolled back, barely holding Lance up as she slumped over, her knees giving out. She could hear the two talking, but being pushed and shoved back and forth had turned her stomach and made her even dizzier than she had been before. “Stop spinning goddammit,” she mumbled, “I’m gonna puke.” 

Snart began to walk away, waving a hand back towards Eobard, “have fun with her. You can’t speed her home unless you want her to puke all over you. The fresh air will do you both good.” 

“Leonard no, don’t leave me with this big meanie,” Lance groaned, “I’d rather die.” 

“Nothing stopping you" Snart called back over his shoulder.

“Yeah something's stopping me, I gotta impress my parents first and it’s all your fault.” 

“Can you walk,” Eobard attempted to change the subject, situating Lance in an upright position. 

She swayed back and forth slightly and made an attempt to step forward. One foot got entangled with the other and she tripped, falling into Eobard again.   
With a resigning sight, Eobard sped off, changing into some plain attire to draw less attention, before hoisting Lance up in his arms, bridal style. He began to trudge his way towards Lance’s apartment, her arms slung around his neck, her breath invading Eobard’s face with the sour and sweet smell of alcohol tainting her breath.   
Once through the front door of the apartment, Lance was dropped to her bed like a sack of potatoes. Eobard made sure to keep Lance on her side, pushed her hair out of her face, and tossed a blanket over her in a haphazard manner. 

“Thanks and all that, but you can get out of my house now,” Lance muttered, “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Just try and be somewhat presentable, if that’s even possible, and don’t forget, dinner tomorrow.” 

The taunting tone in Eobard’s voice made Lance’s blood boil, even in her drunken state. The panic set in shortly afterwards, realizing that her family dinner was less than 24 hours away. She sat bolt upright before falling back with intense vertigo. The churning of alcohol and minimal substantial food in her stomach had Lance up in seconds stumbling to the bathroom before regurgitating the night’s regrets into the cool, white porcelain toilet bowl. Resting her head against the edge of the seat, Lance felt numb. At this point, all she could do was grin and bear it until it was all over and life could go back to the closest thing to normal. 

Lance was unsure what happened after the third puke. The next thing she could recall was the piercing pain she felt behind her eyes as she wearily rose from the bathroom floor. Her mouth was dry, the sour taste of bile still lingering on her breath. The very smell of herself made her nose wrinkle. With some belabored effort, Lance lifted herself from the floor, stripping off her wrinkled, slept in clothing and turning on the shower. 

While she waited for the water to turn warm, Lance wondered where she left her phone. She paused for a brief moment, thinking over what she could remember. Her hand smacked herself in the face as she realized her own drunken mistake: she smashed her phone last night. A mental note was made to stop at the phone store before heading to the Vanishing Point so she could text her parents, who she knew were most likely texting her repeatedly, wondering why Lance hadn’t answered. She was surprised they didn’t just arrive, breaking in the door. 

Lance stepped into the shower with a sigh of relief as the warm water cascaded down her face and body. The steam in the shower cleared her nose, refreshed her dehydrated skin, and rid her of the stench of sickness that plagued her since awakening. After standing under the streaming water for longer than she needed to, she finally turned the water off, drying herself off and throwing on whatever reasonably appropriate attire she could manage. Cups of water and coffee were downed throughout the course of her morning routine and about three rounds of brushing her teeth. It had taken her a record three hours to make herself feel even remotely presentable and even then she knew her parents would find some way to disapprove of each aspect of her presentation, demeanor, and general life choices. 

As she promised herself, she stopped at the phone shop near her apartment, informing the employee who helped her that she “lost” her phone the night prior. Without any eligibility for a replacement, Lance opted for a brand new, painfully expensive phone. Another mental note was added to the collection: don’t get drunk and throw your phone to the ground as hard as possible. Her bank account damaged, her head still aching, and a new phone in hand, Lance did the responsible thing and texted her parents informing them of her lost phone and delayed communication. She texted Eobard next: 

“Hey asshole, can’t wait to get tonight over with so I’m no longer required to be a slave to your every command. Please dress like a decent human being. Avoid the leather for once in your life. Bring wine.” If one thing could bring her pleasure for the day, it would be irritating Eobard to her best ability in even the littlest of ways. 

Texts from Lance’s parents flooded her phone with a vivacious force that startled her. The texts came in faster than she felt she could read them, given the state of her mind. She was surprised her parents could text this fast. Back and forth texts of “thank god you’re okay,” and “find a payphone next time,” came flying in until Lance put the phone on silent and muted notifications from her parents. She gave one final informational text that she would, in fact, be present that evening with Eobard, and shoved the phone in her pocket.   
She only managed to walk a few paces before another text came through from Eobard: 

“Such petty nonsense. Will you ever get over yourself?” 

“What, exactly, does that mean?” 

“You are not nearly as high and mighty as you think yourself to be, Lance. And another thing, how shall I address you this evening given that, apparently, no one knows your real name?” 

“For the record, I’m the one who taught you how to upload images to social media and then taught you how to remove such images when you accidentally uploaded idiotic pictures that you accidentally took of the floor. And please, address me however you like, but just don’t undress me.” 

No reply came following the final text. Feeling satisfied that she had caused Eobard some frustrations this morning, Lance felt her mood improve drastically. She nearly skipped her way to the Vanishing Point, entering with some sense of refreshed pride and confidence. Malcom and Damien cast a general glance in her direction as she entered. Snart cast a coy smirk in her direction before wheeling a chair across the room to her. 

“I see you’ve made a fine recovery. Now the only thing I have to insult is how incredibly tacky your outfit is. Do you really want to introduce your boyfriend to your parents looking like that?” 

Lance frowned, giving a hard shove to the chair, sending Snart backwards across the room with a snide chuckle, “you’re not one to talk fashion with me, Snart. You wear the same three outfits every day and I’m pretty sure you’ve never washed any of them.” 

In a whirlwind of scattered papers and knicknacks, Eobard arrived, practically running Lance down in the process. His irritatingly arrogant smile plagued Lance’s mind as he grinned at her, looking her up and down as if appraising her for market. She growled, low in her throat as he circled her, that irritating grin never moving from his face.   
“Snart might just be right for once,” Eobard paused in front of Lance, “you look like a five year old ready for an Easter church service.” 

Lance looked down at herself, wearing a skirt and a blouse, black heels, and a pale blue blazer. He was right, Lance looked pathetic, and lived up to the innate dullness of her real name. “Okay then, what do you recommend? Leather BDSM gear or washed up biker from the ‘80s? Because clearly those are the only two looks you know.” 

Eobard’s eyes rolled back, the idiotic grin on his face fading, “oh please,” he scoffed, “no wonder you’re such a disappointment to your parents. You’re failing college, you work as a professional murderer behind your parents back, you lie to them, and you must be ashamed of your real name else you wouldn’t hide it so insistently. But to think you can’t even dress yourself without outside consultation. You’re still a child.” 

Lance’s hand closed into a tight fist, her teeth grinding as she clenched her jaw: “listen you prick, just because your parents generated a complete waste of space doesn’t mean you have to make everyone else’s lives a living hell.” 

“Oh but that’s just it, Lance,” he leaned closer to Lance, close enough for his breath to gently blow across her nose, “I have every right to make your life a living hell. A deal is a deal, no?” 

With a final burst of frustration, Lance’s fist flew out and made contact with Eobard’s cheek, his head pushed aside with the force of the blow. He turned back to look at Lance, her face now red, in part from the frustration and anger, and in part from sheer embarrassment. She should never have let Eobard get under her skin, yet here she stood, one prompt away from stabbing him in the chest. 

The look in Eobard’s eyes was surprised, a flicker of red sparked across his pupils, making Lance’s heart jump. As soon as it appeared, however, it vanished and Eobard straightened, adjusting his jacket. “Try something like that again and I can promise you, I will truly make your life a living hell.” 

Without another word Eobard turned and walked out. Lance could feel all eyes on her, Snart watching her with quiet pride; Malcom appeared shocked, almost jealous that he wasn’t the one who finally clocked Eobard in the face. Damien’s face was unmoved and generally unimpressed. 

“If the children in the room are done quarreling,” he tugged at gloves, “we have things to do today, do we not?” 

Still red in the face and hot under the collar, Lance grumbled her way throughout the day, avoiding eye contact with everyone, as best she could. By the end of the day Lance knew she needed to return home and change before dinner, Eobard’s words still stuck in her head. Nothing infuriated her more than the fact that his words could have such an impact on her day, her mood, her very existence. Yet she suffered through his insufferably attitude, and for what? To pretend to impress her parents? 

Somewhat begrudgingly, Lance donned the best attempt at presentability, gelling her hair back, brushing her teeth one more time for the day before finally tugging on a leather jacket. She stared at herself in the mirror with a shocking, horrific realization that she, inadvertently, dressed like the man she despised. Her hair, tucked back, was quickly disheveled and pushed into some casual mess. The leather jacket was tossed aside and replaced with a plain sweater; a scarf was tucked around her neck and plain black pants put on. Lance sighed, kicking at the discarded clothing on the floor. At least she would be put out of her misery soon.


End file.
